


Blow Out All The Candles

by Bad Samaritan (quodpersortem)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Bad%20Samaritan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg's dead and Cas realises that he doesn't like that idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Out All The Candles

Cas watches Sam and Dean from a desolate Tibetan mountaintop for weeks. 

Sometimes an old man pushing a barrel trails by, but he never pays Cas any heed. No one does that, in fact, except for Dean, but Dean is too busy caring for his brother nowadays. 

Cas hears that clearly in Dean’s prayers and he sees it when he checks in on them, staying invisible so he won’t interrupt their sleep. He sees it in the way Dean curls around his brother, his arm swung protectively across Sam’s chest. 

The rise and fall of Sam’s chest is as gentle as the wind and Cas wishes he could fix the rotting cells underneath, the arteries swelling and bursting with each breath. He wishes he could fix the way that Sam’s muscles cramp—something Dean doesn’t know about yet—or his stomach aches, or his heart stutters, sometimes, murmuring its protest weakly. 

He wishes he could do that all for Dean, because he knows what it is like, now. 

He’d been curious about love, when he first realized that the bond between Dean and Sam went beyond blood, beyond soul. That they gave in to their fleshly lusts, and not always with women but with each other too. That they indulged. 

He’d been curious but he didn’t understand until he saw that skin flick. Or not even then, though something hot and wild and exciting had sparked in his body, but the moment he had kissed Meg. That brought on a change. 

He’d felt awkward and confused for a good long while after, of course, and then he’d been to Purgatory where any pleasurable feelings were squished down by the heavy load of fighting that took place every day; the dreariness of the place inevitably draining all energy from each of them. Dean didn’t talk about Sam and Cas didn’t dare to bring him up.

When he finally got back, he could sense that Dean and Sam’s relationship was still strained. That they would need more time to recuperate from each other’s absence and get back in sync. Cas left them to it, instead choosing to travel on his own. 

When he did finally return, his friendship with Dean felt more broken than the relationship between Dean and Sam ever appeared to be. Then it just kept shattering when he was reintroduced to Meg. Cas didn’t notice the difference in hair color.

He didn’t see the wounds on her vessel’s face, or hear the hoarseness in her voice from countless nights of screaming, or perhaps from keeping herself from screaming. 

He just saw Meg, a demon who wasn’t a demon, a human who wasn’t human. 

And then he’d looked at himself and found that he’s an angel who isn’t an angel, who isn’t human and who doesn’t feel like anything in between. Her wrist was warm between his fingers when he put the gauze on it. She did not flinch but she did shiver and when Cas looked up, he’d recognized the look in her eyes for the first time in his life. When she asked him if he wanted to move some furniture, he didn’t doubt his answer for a second. He would have kissed her, right then, if Dean had not walked in with Sam in tow. 

In that moment he thought he understood what love is. He still does.

Except now he knows that Meg was killed by Crowley, and he suspects that she was probably put under Alastair’s supervision again. Maybe she’s being tortured, maybe she is the torturer—Cas has no way of knowing and he is sure he doesn’t want to know either.

Because he knows that no matter what happens down there, _if_ he ever sees again, she’ll be less human than he’s ever known her; possibly the least human of all. It gives him a sharp pain in his chest, not dissimilar to the shattering of a vase, and he recognizes it as his breaking heart. 

The Winchesters are all he has to keep himself together.

Now Sam is shattering under Dean’s fingers, splayed lightly across his toned chest. He is fading away, his soul becomes paler every day, and even though Dean doesn’t know the full extent of it he must be feeling it. 

Dean has started to say goodbye to Sam, in his own way, his own little gestures and touches and the shift in how he used to fuck Sam rough and now takes him gently. 

Soon, Cas knows, he will be on his own again with Dean, the both of them living through their own private hells. 

Nevertheless, for now, he leaves them to it, and watches, wistful of seeing his own chance pass before he even got a chance at taking it.

Dean shuffles a little closer to Sam, and Cas watches the old man push by his cart again.


End file.
